Illegitimate Tycoon (6 page)

 
          
She
would. She’d prefer a night alone with her husband. She wanted to unburden her
soul. But it would have to wait.

 
          
The
elevator doors whooshed open and she pushed her way out, eager to get away from
strangers. To catch a breath that wasn’t laced with the spicy scent that was
uniquely Rafael’s.

 
          
But
she got no more than three steps before he was at her side. “Are you all right?”

 
          
“You
know I dislike small closed spaces,” she said.

 
          
“As
much as I despise the cameras that follow us around.” He huffed a breath, and
she felt his annoyance vibrate through her in a liquid wave.

 
          
Yes,
this was her world. She’d gladly guide him through it—as long as he stayed
close.

 
          
“This
red carpet we’re about to trod down en route to the Palais du Cinéma is hellish
for me too,” she admitted.

 
          
“You
are serious?”

 
          
“Very.
It’s different when it’s just me and the camera. I’m in control then. But they—”
she nodded at the throng ahead of them “—they are calling the shots now.”

 
          
“Only
if you let them, Leila.”

 
          
He
was right, of course. Still it served to remind her how to get through this
crush.

 
          
“Just
smile. Pretend you see a dear friend just beyond the camera.”

 
          
“Is
that what you do?” he asked.

 
          
“Sometimes.”
But usually she looked for him in the crowd, even though she knew he’d not be
there.

 
          
He
took a breath, then nodded and touched his fingers to her back again. “Let’s
go, then. The sooner we get through this ordeal, the sooner we can find our
seats at the cinema.”

 
          
And
then they’d face the endless swirl of afterpremiere parties, the first having
already been decided by him. She didn’t mind, for one was just like the other.
Privacy was a hard-won commodity here.

 
          
When
they’d reached their plush seats at the cinema, Leila allowed herself to relax.
Celebrities, movie moguls and industry professionals all moved to their seats
before the lights dimmed.

 
          
Later,
as the credits rolled, she was stunned at how much Rafael had invested in this
film, and not just in the technical support he’d given. As the producer in the
elevator had said, every complimentary bag held Rafael’s new mobile device.
They were as much the talk of the evening as the movie itself with those in the
audience activating their phones now.

 
          
“I
didn’t realize they were all operational,” she said.

 
          
He
gave a careless shrug. “I simply provided a month’s complimentary service.”

 
          
The
cost of such a move stunned her, for though she knew he’d achieved great wealth
in the past year, she’d never dreamed he could afford such extravagance! Did
she really know this man next to her at all?

 
          
The
yacht had been decorated to mimic the set of the movie, a futuristic panorama
right down to the uniforms of the waitstaff. The food was lavish. The drinks
plentiful.

 
          
Stars
glittered in an indigo sky and on the decks of the yacht as well. Leila had
adored the nightlife in the early days of their marriage, and would party until
dawn with Rafael. But the past few years her enjoyment of the jet-set gaiety
had waned.

 
          
Even
now the best French champagne tasted bitter to her. And the man she’d married
seemed a powerful stranger.

 
          
He
commanded attention. People knew his name. Influential people in all walks of
life.

 
          
Gone
was the carefree young designer who’d created some technological wonder at a
time that everyone clambered for something new and groundbreaking. He was a
star in his world just as she was in hers.

 
          
Only
she’d been a comeback queen. It had been grueling to step back in front of the
camera after her recovery and she’d been determined to succeed.

 
          
Rafael
had been her savior then. He’d taken her away from the madness and the
pressures of the modeling world. He’d become the barrier that her controlling
mother could never break down.

 
          
He’d
let Leila make her own decisions regarding her career and she had become
strong. She owed him everything—including the truth that burned in her soul.

 
          
“Rafael
da Souza is without a doubt the most handsome man here,” a ravishing starlet
said, a champagne flute dangling from her jeweled fingers and lust glittering
in her blue eyes that were fixed on him.

 
          
“I
agree,” Leila managed to say in a controlled tone, her Brazilian blood bitten
with jealousy that this young woman would openly flaunt her desire for Rafael
in front of her! “But then, I’ve always thought he was the most handsome man I’ve
ever met.”

 
          
“You
know him?” she asked, looking at Leila then.

 
          
Leila
forced a smile, knowing the second when the actress recognized her. “I’m his
wife.”

 
          
And
after delivering that statement, Leila walked straight toward her husband. She
lifted a flute of champagne off a tray as Rafael turned to talk to a beautiful
woman who’d just approached him.

 
          
A
woman whom he seemed glad to see!

 
          
Leila
downed the fine wine so fast that her head took a dizzying spin. She refused to
rationalize that women threw themselves at Rafael often, for his finely
chiseled features and intense dark eyes were too magnetic for any woman to
resist, including herself. But he was her husband!

 
          
Her
sting of jealousy was warranted. Wasn’t it?

 
          
She
wouldn’t sit on the sidelines tonight and watch others flirt with him! God
forbid if he welcomed their attention, as he seemed to be doing now with this
green-eyed beauty at his side.

 
          
“There
you are,” Leila said in an affected purr as she slipped her arms around his
muscled one, bringing his startled gaze snapping to hers. “I’ve missed you.”

 
          
His
brows slammed together, then smoothed one trebling pulse later. “Have you now?”

 
          
“I
thought perhaps you’d give me a tour of the yacht.”

 
          
“Later,”
he said, and flicked an apologetic look at the other woman.

 
          
Before
Leila could protest, the woman who’d garnered Rafael’s attention spoke directly
to her. “I’ve admired your work for years. You make modeling look effortless
when I know it is very hard work.”

 
          
Again
she trotted forth her patent smile when she felt anything but pleasant. Her
head was still in the clouds from drinking two glasses of champagne on a nearly
empty stomach.

 
          
“Are
you a model?” Leila asked the woman who was as tall as she, enviably lithe and
naturally beautiful with a crown of soft brown curls and arresting jade-green
eyes.

 
          
“Katie
is a costume designer,” came a deep voice behind her, a voice laced with a
distinct English accent. “An excellent one, I may add.”

 
          
Leila
whipped around and stared up at the intruder. The bottom fell out of her queasy
stomach as a pair of royal-blue eyes locked on hers.

 
          
“Nathaniel,”
Leila said, noting that the film star was as tall and broad shouldered as
Rafael. That their family resemblance was further established with features
that were just as finely chiseled.

 
          
The
look of love Nathaniel and Katie exchanged caught her by surprise. The
celebrated star wasn’t acting now. This was genuine affection.

 
          
“Katie
and I were sorry you couldn’t make the wedding,” Nathaniel said, moving to his
wife now and slipping an arm around her shoulders.

 
          
“As
was I,” she replied, her apologetic smile flicking from him to Rafael.

 
          
The
accusatory glint in her husband’s intense eyes scorched through her. He didn’t
add that she would have known who Katie was if she had accompanied him to his
brother’s wedding. He didn’t have to, for his eyes said it all.

 
          
The
yacht took a sudden dip and her stomach heaved along with it. Terrified she’d
become ill in front of the world, she muttered an apology and fled toward the
lower deck and the toilets.

 
          
She
kept the contents of her queasy stomach, only to find that Rafael had stayed on
her heels and was waiting for her to exit.

 
          
“Are
you ill?” he asked.

 
          
She
shook her head, for how did one explain one was sick at heart?

 
          
“Absolutely
not,” she said. “I drank too much champagne on an empty stomach. The movement
of the boat made me woozy. Being on the water always does that.”

 
          
His
brow narrowed, as if considering her words. “That is a convenient answer.”

 
          
“It’s
the truth. I find these parties cloying,” she said. “Maybe I’ve just been on
too hectic of a schedule of late to appreciate the party crowd, but right now I’d
kill for some quiet time where I could just relax.”

 
          
He
gave a curt nod. “Then let’s leave.”

 
          
She
pressed a hand against the muscled wall of his chest and shivered at the heat
and power beneath her palm. “Stay and enjoy your party.”

 
          
He
closed his hand over hers, but his dark gaze gave nothing away of what he felt.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. If we part company on the first night, the paparazzi
will have a field day with speculation.”

 
          
All
for show.

 
          
Nobody
understood the need for publicity stunts more than she. She’d lend Rafael her
support, and he’d do the same for her at the premier of
Bare Souls
. She never doubted he’d be there for her.

 
          
But
would he once he’d learned what she’d kept from him?

 
          
“Besides,”
he continued, “I’ve thought of nothing except getting you alone.”

 
          
“Very
well,” she said. “Get me out of here.”

 
          
Rafael
kept his thoughts secreted on the short boat ride from the yacht to the dock.
He’d said nothing when the boat had picked up speed and Leila had taken his
hand in a death grip.

 
          
The
tremors rocketing through her told him everything he needed to know then. She
wasn’t fine by any stretch of the imagination. She was putting on a brave
front, and if there was one thing he understood, it was how to stand tall in
the face of adversity.

 
          
His
troubled childhood had taught him that bitter lesson!

 
          
That’s
when he’d buried his own pain of being William Wolfe’s unwanted bastard into
learning the intricacies of computers, discovering what made them work, and
what to do to make them work better.